The Latest Post: The Picturey Half (That Also Has A Lot Of Words, Actually)

Go go gadget last week's photos!

Thursday is free museum day here in Berlin, and for once I actually took advantage of it.

Up first was the German Historical Museum, with my Political Thought class. I’d been once before, with my Intensive German class, but as we spent the whole time in a very Holocaust-central tour through the Nazi-Zeit (Nazi Time)—our tour guide barely mentioned, uh, World War II—there was still plenty of new stuff to see. The only picture I took that’s worth seeing is this one, of one of the many awesome post-WWI political posters plastered up in the Weimar Republik section:This guy’s determined stare towards the future, juxtaposed with his goofy, fleshy face, and carefully line-shaded bald pate, is great enough, but the best part is how his head just sort of grows out of that riverbank, as if he were a geological formation, or a really poorly thought-out monument, or some kind of giant head-monster chilling by the river. Look out, tiny train passengers! The River Guardian is angry! He could devour this bridge in a single bite!

Later in the day I met up with my buddy Phil (Texan, Tulane undergrad, musician, technician, American) and attempted to visit the Pergamon Museum. My last free Thursday visit to the Pergamon didn’t go so well, mostly because it was a Wednesday. This time I got the day right, but turned back again because due to some fancy pants special exhibition the Pergamon was not free. However, as luck would have it, we were in the middle of an entire island covered with world-class museums. We made our way about 250 yards upriver and entered the big, beautiful Bodemuseum, home to Germany’s Old Master paintings, Byzantine collection, and a heck of a lot of sculptures, especially wooden altarpieces and saints. I was expecting at least a little hassle at the door, but we literally just walked right in—we had to walk through a small gauntlet of smiling docents who made sure we didn’t have chainsaws or like buckets of paint, but that was about it. Good job, Berlin.

Rube: Say Max, did you happen to photograph any weird things at the Bodemusem?
Max: Why YES, I DID do that!

1. Here is an altar. It’s pretty large, right? Not quite as big as the bald and distant man on the right makes it seem, but still: large.

But large was not good enough for whoever translated the label:Heh heh. I’m not sure why I found this so amusing, but I did. Might as well have put down “HUMUNGOUS friggin’ Bernsteinalter!”

2. Of all the saints in the canon, St. George seemed to be the most prominent in the collection, probably because he’s best known for killing an awesome dragon instead of just being, you know, tortured to death for his faith. This was the weirdest George I found, for a couple of reasons:First, George is looking awfully womanish, no? I suppose long hair could have been common among men in Bibley times (or really whatever medieval period this thing was carved during), and maybe a real Biblical hombre always pulled on his best golden gown before he went out dragon slaying, but the thin waist, broad hips, fine features, and BLUSH had me very confused about who this awesome chick was until I actually read George’s name on the label

Second, is Georgy grabbing that dragon by the tongue? You betcha!Oof. Not even is G not up on his horse, as he’s generally depicted, he has reached INTO the dragon’s mouth and gotten a grip on the beast’s tongue, the better to lift his head for slicin’. NO FEAR.

3. SPEAKING OF HEAD-SLICIN’: This one is wee bit ghastly, so feel free to skip it if you’re feeling weak-willed or a little nauseous.

***BEGIN GROSS STUFF***

When I first saw this painting, I was fairly nonplussed. Okay, this woman is holding a dude’s head, that happens sometimes, dudes get beheaded, part of the cycle of nature, yes I guess it’s a little unsettling that she is draining the head-blood into like a special cistern, but generally nothing special. Then Phil suggested I take a closer look at the lower lefthand corner:
Ew ew ew ew ew hahahahhaha. Gross. The cartoonish neck spouting blood wasn’t horrible enough for this particular artist—or perhaps for his patron, I suppose—so he added in a fluffy little dog to lap up the arterial spray. LOL.

***END GROSS STUFF (FOR THE MOST PART)***

Once we’d had our fill of dead wood and oils, Phil and I rolled north for what turned out to be a fairly extensive bike ride. One odd backstreets market promised a movie theater that never materialized, but it did provide two cool illuminated things. First, I really dug on this sign, partially for the font, partially for the charming randomness of the things across the bottom:Second, at the dead end where this confusing curlicue of a market terminated, sans movie theater, we found a bar with this awesome lit-up construction atop it, throwing light on the surrounding grafitti:
So that was Thursday. Quickly, to the weekend!

I’m not 100% sure, but I believe all of the following took place on Saturday, with Friday being a less photogenic but similarly busy day.

In any case, this day’s primary task was to locate my classrooms and head off as much first-day anxiety as possible. On the way I passed this ridiculous poster that I pass almost every day, and I decided to photograph it because this is apparently what a popular German comedian looks like:In front of the Sprachzentrum (language center), where I will take both French and German, I found this rather sad and lonely lock wrapped around a street sign:Some poor fella bought a U-lock, generally considered the most secure/least convenient sort of bike lock, thinking his bike would be safe from even the most well-equipped of crooks. Unfortunately Jason Q. Theftvictim did not count on a scoundrel with what must have been some fairly impressive hardware—I would posit that this damage was done by some sort of major bolt cutter:I suppose it is possible that the owner lost his lock key and had to forcibly remove the lock himself, or hire a professional lock-snipper, but I feel like in such a scenario the broken lock would have been removed and disposed up. No, this lock was found like this, briefly examined, then dropped and abandoned in a delirium of bike grief.

Eventually I finished mourning a stranger’s potentially stolen bicycle and actually found my classroom. Although stupidly dependent on elevators—I could not find a non-emergency escape flight of stairs—the Sprachzentrum proved to a be a fine, modern building, with this awesome central courtyard with plenty of, yes, bicycle parking. I think I will use this if I am allowed to.

I got a little lost on my way to my next classroom and came upon this crazily dense construction site that I recognized from an earlier, darker, much more lost experience. Now there was enough light for a proper photo, so I got off my bike and did my best to get as many cranes as possible in the frame. I was walking in little squares on the sidewalk, trying (and failing) to squeeze in the leftmost crane in its entirety, when this chubby, furtive German man in uniform overalls, as he sort of scuttle-waddled from his work truck to the door of a business behind me, advised me to be careful, as I was photographing the future headquarters of the BND. This meant nothing to me, so I asked him what BND stood for. He sort of looked in both directions, tilted his large, round head in towards me, and said, very low and very quickly, “Bundesnachrichtendienst.” This meant even less to me, so I asked him again, sort of called after him as he brushed by and almost through the door; he stopped with his back to me, and we had this little exchange, in rapid-fire Deutsch, over his shoulder:

“Du bist Amerikaner?” (You’re an American?)
“Ja” (Yep)
“Weißt nicht was BND heißt?” (Ya don’t know what BND is?)
“Nein” (Nope)
“CIA in Deutschland” (CIA in Germany)

Then he disappeared through the door, and I guess like burned off his fingertips and checked his phone for listening devices AGAIN.

I was did not even have my passport revoked or get assaulted by men in white vans and black suits once as I found my way to the classroom building, so I guess I was in a video blind spot and avoided detection. Anyways: unlike the Sprachzentrum this structure had plenty of stairs, but felt, oh, let’s say, “due for renovation.” See?I guess it is probably less desolate/menacing when classes are in session, but still, look at this handlettered door sign:The text reads “Law Department.” I don’t think I want to hire that lawyer.

This building being an unfamiliar part of town, I decided to try a direct route home and see what I came across. Among many other things, I found a rather long, arduous climb—I cut across the neighborhood of Prenzlauerberg, i.e. Prenzlauer Mountain, and while it is not exactly a snow-capped peak one does gain quite a bit of elevation on the way in—along a lot of irritating cobblestone streets. Really, look at this crap:I guess if you are like a history buff and enjoy driving your black Mercedes with customized shock absorbers on road surfaces older than you are, than cobblestones are the bee’s knees, but for a regular Joe trying to make his way around Berlin via bicycle they are the pits. I think they are deliberately poorly maintained to give them that centuries-old look that some folks go wild for, and probably to force motorists to slow down and not run over so many little kids. I always have to stand up when I ride over cobblestones and even then I feel like a can of paint in a paint-can shaker, or like Charlie Sheen hitting all of those speed bumps on his motorcycle in Hot Shots. They are stupid and I wish they would all be replaced with smooth, gleaming blacktop that’s 90% bicycle lane. At sunset you could stop for a moment and watch the impurities in the asphalt glitter in the day’s dying light…

ANYWAYS, I eventually finished my tooth-rattling climb and found the church on top of the hill:Every hill around here has a church on it, I think it is kind of a rule. This thing was especially impressive though. At least the bike thought so:Look at the size of it! You can barely even see John Pedalman down there in the lower right. I want to write a series of books for children called Bikey N’ Churchy where the bike and the church are anthropomorphized pals. They make a good team because Churchy can’t really move (except to ring his bells or partially collapse on bad guys) but he’s real smart and Bikey isn’t terribly bright but he can roll around like crazy. Every book starts with a mysterious crime of some sort and our heroes try to solve it for a while, but eventually they get distracted—they are only a bike and a church, after all—and Bikey just does wheelies around the block while Churchy hums A Mighty Fortress Is Our Lord.

This little white dog had some stubby little legs but man was he ever FAST:
All my hard pedal uphill pedal-pumping was eventually rewarded with a long, leisurely, gravity-aided coast along smooth streets through a cool neighborhood. I liked this spraypaint stencil:And this creepy paste-up:
This is the second poster I have seen for what must be a very strange art show. To clarify: Documenta is an extremely prestigious exhibition, held every five years in the city of Kassel, of what Germany’s art authorities consider to be the best in contemporary art. Duckomenta seems to be some sort of duck-themed parody that had a successful enough inaugural run to justify a second duck-themed parody art show, “Duckomenta II: The Ducks are Back.” Germany is so weird.

“Paint the whole truck yellow.”
“Even the Mercedes logo?”
“WHAT PART OF PAINT THE WHOLE TRUCK YELLOW DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND.”I’m surprised they didn’t get the bumpers too, and the windshield.

Stopped by a drugstore to pick up some Kleenex, was amused by this row of signs.“Well heck, I don’t need no BAD accessories! Where do you keep the GOOD ‘uns?”
(Clarification: “Bad” is German for “bath.” Oh, and “Accessoires” is German for “accessories.”)

What with all the bicycling and photography I had worked up quite an appetite, so before rolling home I bought a currywurst (a spicy sliced-up sausage coverd in curry sauce and ketchup) at Konopke’s, an East Berlin institution that deserves its reputation for the best currywurst in town.

I like this steel plate warning sign on my elevator, probably because it looks kind of like a cryptic message bolted to a spacecraft and sent by aliens to yours truly. I think I am supposed to gather 6 people who weigh precisely 500 kg, then board the elevator and await further instruction.

Finally, some more groceries. Yes, that Hackfleisch (ground meat) is pork, and yes, it was very tasty with that penne and those canned tomatoes. Do you want to know why I bought “KORN” brand vodka? I bought it because it was cheap.

Okay! Finally finished with all of my pictures and stories from last week, just in time for a while crapload of NEW pictures and stories from this week! Aaaahhh!

Breathe iiiiiiiiiiiiiiin, breathe oooooooooooout. I have plenty of time. Lots of pictures, but plenty of time. A quick update, to be elaborated upon when I get a spare moment to sort through my photos and thoughts: classes have begun and are interesting so far. Today I need to sign up for my German class, go to my second day ever of French instruction (French is hard), then book it up to that sketchy classroom building for my first lecture in translation for technical writers. Awesome.

I hope you are all doing very well! Will try to find some more postcards this week and send off as many as I can! Write me please! Last week I got my first postcard, from cousin Amelia, and one from my aunt Sarah the next day, and it was great! Join the League of Champions and send me something with your signature and some other words on one side and a picture of America on the other side!